


Arachne

by emmaliza



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst and Porn, Brainwashing, Egg Laying, Other, Oviposition, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Psychic Abilities, Religious Cults, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:07:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25048888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: The woman who thought she could best the gods, and so they made her a spider.Or, Blake confronts a question of faith.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 9





	Arachne

**Author's Note:**

> For the kinkmeme prompt: "Let's kink this meme up. How about something wild - like oviposition? We're in space after all. Male character of your choice."

Blake moans, softly, tugging with purpose against the white gossamer strings binding him to the wall, even though he's been doing that for most of the past two hours and it hasn't accomplished anything yet. He cannot say he didn't walk into this one. Arachne, the planet of spiders. They said a giant spider-like creature had been spotted in the early days of colonisation, and the locals had been worshiping it ever since. They were a strange, remote sort of people, but when they sent out a message it made sense to Blake. They said the Federation was growing too close to their planet, they were afraid they were about to be subsumed. It was the exact sort of place, independent and unique, that they wanted to destroy, and rebuild in their own image.

Avon told him it was a trap. Of course it was a trap, hence why Blake came alone. But he thought if only he could talk to them, even if they initially meant him harm, their only option was to join his side. Even if the Federation wasn't after them yet, it soon would be.

Alright, accepting a drink when the High Priestess offered it was probably foolish. But he meant to charm them toward the cause, and refusing their hospitality seemed a poor first step toward that goal. Hours, or maybe days later, he woke bound to this wall with ropes he cannot understand, and with these... things...

_Mama, we are a part of you. Why can't you accept us? We love you._

Blake keeps his eye on the wrist encased with white silk, held tight and yet, showing no markings, so he cannot see his belly bulging out in front of him. He can feel them though. Eggs, small, white and fragile, filling him up until he is almost bursting. He gasps and writhes whenever he feels them slide against one another inside him. If he had any sense he'd smash them all and be done with it, but--

_No, you couldn't do that, could you? Not to your own children. We love you Mama, we love you._

He groans in despair. The creatures they have inseminated him with must have some low-level telepathic ability, but Blake doesn't see why they should be able to speak to him in his own language. He wonders if it's own mind that's doing this, taking their fear and longing and translating it into human thought; if it's so broken it will accept anything that wanders in as his truth.

The door slides open. The High Priestess, tall, slender and regal, clad in black silks that look like the same thing holding him hostage, only dyed. "Ah. Good. You're awake. I'm afraid we didn't have much time to talk earlier. You must be very confused by your new situation."

That makes Blake struggle again against the ropes, defiant, and the High Priestess kneels beside him with a sigh, as if she has seen this a thousand times before. "That won't help. Those ropes were woven by the gods themselves. Your strength won't be enough to break them."

"Gods," he spits the word with contempt. "Is that what you call the animals you've made your people a slave to?"

The eggs inside him cry out in unison. _How can you say such things of Papa? He loves you._

Blake throws his head back against the wall. The drink they gave him was drugged, that much is clear enough. What happened afterwards is - fuzzy. He can see brief flashes, if he concentrates; where they had led him, and the creature they had given him to - that which had crept over him, crept inside him...

_It was good, though, wasn't it? Good when he filled you up with us. You were meant to be full._

He bites his lip not to moan aloud. Those damn eggs, they're in his head, turning what little memory he has of an event that should be the ultimate violation into nothing but arousal and longing. He must fight to maintain his knowledge of what is happening.

"You hold your tongue." The Priestess' face takes on a dark cast. "Our gods are real, we can see them in the flesh. We offer them new hosts from whom they can birth new gods, and in exchange we live in peace and prosperity, and they destroy the pests who would steal our crops. Our gods treat us well, Mr. Blake. As they will treat you, if you let them."

Blake wants to scoff at that, but before he can a great wave of pleasure seizes his body, the eggs whispering through him: _see, we can be good for you. You don't have to fight anymore, lose anymore, hurt anymore. You just have to stay here and help us. We need you._

"See? You're feeling it, aren't you?" the High Priestess whispers also, talking to him like a difficult child. "You should be flattered. It is a great honour to be chosen as a host for the gods."

Shaking, arousal sinking into his bones, Blake tries desperately to keep his grip. "Then why bring me here?" he asks. "Or could you not find one among your people who would volunteer for this 'honour'?"

The High Priestess hesitates. Clearly, Blake has hit upon something there. "Our numbers are small. Our children are often weak and sickly. The gods - they prefer travellers whenever we can find them. They make stronger hosts."

"Your gods don't seem to think as much of you as you do of them," he muses.

She glowers. "My son, he - would have been the host if not for your arrival. But he is a reckless boy, selfish and impudent. He would not do."

Oh, of course. No doubt this woman has convinced herself that she only doesn't want to see her son bestowed this 'honour' because he is not worthy. In truth though, like any mother, she is not willing so see her son strapped to a wall and used as a broodmare the rest of his life. Blake would be more sympathetic to her dilemma had she not seen fit to sacrifice him in her son's place.

The eggs rumble treacherously inside his full belly, making him writhe and tremble once more. _Love us, Mama. If we make you feel good, will you love us?_

Blake should not be tempted. It is only the eggs inside him warping his mind, making him think such things. But it would be so easy to give in, to no longer be the rebel leader on a crusade across the galaxy, to give himself to these gods...

"Come now, you need not be afraid," says the High Priestess. "Birthing a god is not like birthing a human child, you know. I'm told it's the greatest pleasure known to man. No host has ever done it and wanted anything other than to do it again, and again, and again." Blake shudders against his ropes. That should sound absurd, but with the eggs bulging and growing inside him, Blake believes it.

The woman offers a cup of something to his mouth, smelling of honey and wine. "None of that will mean anything, however, if you don't keep your strength up. Drink."

Blake takes a mouthful of the sweet liquid. It is more delicious than anything he's ever tasted in his life. Yes, he can imagine feasting on this ambrosia for a lifetime.

The High Priestess takes having it spat in her face with remarkable equanimity, as if that happens to her all the time. "You will learn," getting to her feet and wiping her cheeks clean. "The gods have chosen you for a reason."

Then she leaves him, in perfect faith that her gods' web will keep caught. It's funny, Blake has never believed in any gods, but he has believed in faith - sure he knows of its ability to inspire great cruelty, but also its ability to inspire good, to make people believe in something bigger than themselves. That's why the Federation banned it - the thought that their power might be restricted to one temporal realm is their version of blasphemy.

Bitterly, Blake wonders if this lot, with their cult of kidnapping and raping strangers to keep their harvest safe, don't deserve to be wiped out. The eggs inside him scream out in protest. _No, Mama, you don't mean that. You wouldn't let anyone hurt us. You couldn't._

_No, my children, I couldn't._ He shakes his head. That's not him, that's what these creatures are doing to his mind. He must get out of here before he loses it completely. Snarling, he tugs furiously at the silken ropes, but that is just as pointless as it was before. _Arachne. The woman who thought she could best the gods, and so they made her a spider._

The others will come looking for him though. Cally, with her telepathic powers, she must have sensed something is wrong. Even if she hasn't, how long he has been gone will make them suspicious. Yes, they will find him, he need only wait.

He hopes they find him while he still wants them to.


End file.
